


Hell is Other People

by RhineGold



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, F/M, M/M, the het will be slow burn, the slash will be non consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Father Gold has plans to leave the rectory and venture out into the world, spread his wings. The Mother Superior has other ideas (as does her friend).
Relationships: Pinocchio | August Booth/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Hell is Other People

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU, this time a Priest one (whohasapriestfetishhahanotmewhathaha)... August makes such a charming, roguish villain. And Gold is a surprisingly decent fit for a lonely, conflicted priest. And then there's Mary Margaret...

"He's beautiful," He remarked huskily, eyes never leaving the man seated across the yard. 

Father Aurelius was, indeed, quite lovely to look upon. Though middle-aged, there was something youthful about the man's long, soft brown hair and his impossibly wide eyes. The priest perched demurely on the edge of the fountain, one hand hooked over his own shoulder, the other holding a small book as he read aloud. Scattered around him, children and sisters alike sat entranced by his reading. Only the soft timbre of his voice carried across to where they stood, but the accent was lilting, the tone gentle. He was a lovely man. 

"He wants to leave us," She replied, crossing her arms to her chest. Her pristine, blue habit stood in stark contrast to the man beside her, dressed in his worn jeans and leather jacket. "He doesn't know what he's asking for. He doesn't understand why I need him here."

"And why is that, exactly?" He asked, tone teasing. He finally tore his eyes off the man, meeting her steely gaze.

"You know why. What he was. The potential risk is too great. I need him to remain by my side."

"...Under your control, you mean?"

She turned away from him, staring out across the grassy courtyard, eyes unseeing. Her gentle smile did nothing to offset the glint in her eyes and the set of her jaw. "He doesn't realize how dangerous and terrible the world outside my reach can be. Be a dear, won't you, and show him?"

He smiled - slow, wolfish, predatory. Across the field, Father Aurelius Gold closed the book and pocketed it before reaching out to grasp the carved ebony handle of his cane. The man watched his every move - the way he shifted his weight to one hip, clearly outlined against the thin wool of his cassock, to press to his feet - the way he shook his bangs from his eyes as he warmly greeted one of the nuns.

"Yes," He said finally, lazily, in a voice as warm as her face was cold, "It would be my pleasure." 

~*~

The windows of the small office appeared dark, and there was no answer when he knocked. After a few moments of rather hapless confusion, he finally noticed the sign hung in the nearby window reading 'out to lunch - back by 3'. He fished in his pocket for his watch, sad to see it was only half-past two. 

"Father Aurelius?" 

He turned at the sound of the woman's voice, face splitting into a warm smile when he saw who it was. "Mary Margaret! How lovely to see you today."

She carried a brown paper bag of groceries in one arm, dressed smartly in her little wool coat and matching hat. The cold air had brought a rosy tint to her pale cheeks and he was struck once more with how pretty she really was. These thoughts troubled him, though, so he shook them away. He was a priest and she his good friend. Still, perhaps if he were to go through with his plans, perhaps, then someday...? 

He was distracted from his reverie when another woman joined them, clearly catching up to Mary Margaret. "Geez, you walk fast," She mumbled, carrying her own bag with far less grace than her companion. She was a beautiful woman - tall, confident, a crown of blazing, golden hair that caught the eye. 

"Oh, Emma, this is Father Gold. He works with me at the school."

After a slow-witted moment, it occurred to him to offer his hand - his left, as his right was occupied with his cane, and Emma shuffled her burden from one hip to the other to reciprocate. 

"Father, this is Emma. She's Henry's birth mother, and she's been staying in town for a few weeks." 

"Henry's...? Oh!" He shook her hand more vigorously for the recognition. "Well, he's a lovely boy. Very talented, and well-behaved."

"So you're one of his teachers?" She asked, interested now, though she appeared to be eyeing his collar with something akin to suspicion. 

"I come by three times a week for religious instruction."

"Sounds great," She mumbled, tone indicating the opposite. 

"Yes, well..." He shrugged sheepishly. "It's what we do?" 

"Yeah, no, I'm sorry. Just not big on religion myself. No offense."

"None taken," He answered amicably. "We all have our own paths to follow." 

"Ladies, there you are..." Another voice interrupted, this time a young man who sidled up, all jeans and leather, casually sliding one hand around Emma's waist. "And who's your friend?"

"Father Gold is an adjunct teacher at my school," Mary Margaret replied, stepping closer to the priest as though trying to balance the dynamic a bit. 

"Oh, a priest and a teacher?" He asked, looking him over, expression penetrative. "Interesting..." 

"August is Emma's boyfriend," Mary Margaret said brightly, though he was certain he was not imagining the slight indication of dislike in her voice, "He's a writer."

"Oh?" He replied, looking up then. "What sorts of writing?"

"Just magazine articles, mostly. Travel, history, that sort of thing."

"He's working on the Great American Novel, but it's a secret~" Emma teased, bumping her hip against his playfully.

"I enjoy literature," Gold offered awkwardly, smiling up at the taller man with what he hoped was a welcoming expression. 

"Perhaps I might share some of mine with you sometime," August offered, smile a bit too sly. 

"I'd like that." 

"Well, we should probably...?" Mary Margaret shifted her groceries then, expression slightly pinched. 

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry! Please don't let me keep you."

"You're waiting for Mr. Carter?" She asked, tilting her head to the side in puzzlement. 

"I was hoping to see about renting a small apartment, should such a thing be available."

"You're leaving the rectory?" She asked, surprised.

"...Perhaps. It's nothing decided yet. Just something I've been entertaining for a while now. I thought it might be nice to get out on my own - see the world a bit."

"The world of... Storybrooke," Emma interjected dubiously.

"Hey, now," August defended, "Anything outside those dusty old walls is a whole new world, right? I think it sounds like a great idea." 

Just then, Gibson Carter turned the street corner, and they said their goodbyes. Mary Margaret extracted a promise from the priest to call on her for dinner later in the week, and he accepted gladly. He enjoyed the woman and her company, and wouldn't mind seeing more of Emma, even if it meant her boyfriend following in tow. There was something unsettling about the way the man looked at her. And at him. 

~*~

The only apartment currently available for rent was pleasantly near Mary Margaret's own, a fact which pleased him. It would be nice to have something familiar in what was sure to be a distressingly different world. He could not recall having lived outside the confines of the rectory, though he knew intellectually he must have, as a boy. 

He'd come to Storybrooke young, under the wardship of another priest, and been raised in the Church with the understanding he would take his mentor's place. When the time came, the Mother Superior of the rectory had been extremely kind, smoothing the way through his ordination and helping him settle into a routine teaching and caring for their flock. She had always been good to him, the closest thing to a mother he could ever recall, and she always had a kind word and smile for him when he needed a friend. 

It was not the same with Mary Margaret. There was something sweeter, something more gentle about her. Unlike Mother Aquila's cool, collected nature, Mary Margaret was as awkward and unassured as he himself, and he found solace in not being the only person who often felt this way. And she was lovely to talk to, caring and kind. He'd spent many years ignoring these thoughts beyond anything besides friendship, but unlocking the door to an apartment made them rise up in his mind. He could do this - live here, minutes from her door. He could teach with her, every day, not just three. He could ask her to coffee. To dinner. 

But to do so would mean turning his back to everything he had ever known. To go out into a world, not as a priest, but as a man. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that - if he would ever be ready. 

With a bolt of embarrassment, he realized he had been standing outside the door for several minutes. The sun had already all-but set, leaving the hallway corridor shadowed and dark. Squaring his shoulders, he turned the key, hearing the lock tumble in what could well become his door. 

The apartment was larger than he'd expected - a generous living space and connected kitchen. A bedroom to one side, and another up a flight of stairs. He stepped into the smaller of the two, unsure about attempting the stairs each day. It looked small, but cozy, with a large window and a decent closet. It was bigger than his cell of a room in the rectory - he would have room for his bookcases in here, instead of taking up half the hallway as he did now. 

He decided to investigate the kitchen in more depth. He was not a skilled cook - most of the nuns saw to that sort of thing, but he knew a thing or two from his time in the care of the older priest. 

As he stepped into the main space, he sensed something had changed, just before the cloth came down over his head. 

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> GOD WHY IS HALF OF THIS JUST DIALOGUE


End file.
